


Walk Me Home

by endlesstalesofwonder



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Wolf Derek Hale, Awkward Derek Hale, Derek Hale is a Good Alpha, Everybody Lives, Hale Pack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Relationship Development, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) is a Failwolf, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Slow Burn, five plus one trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesstalesofwonder/pseuds/endlesstalesofwonder
Summary: Five times that Stiles had a wolf walk him home without asking, and one time he did.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 879





	Walk Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by: Walk Me Home by Pink!

1\. “That’s ridiculous.” Derek held the packet of information about their most recent incident involving a  _ hydrus.  _ The local law enforcement (i.e. his in-the-know father) had the ongoing theory of — get this —  _ human combustion.  _ The  _ hydrus  _ was a serpent creature, moreso related to crocodiles, that would enter a vessel and eat them from the inside out, sometimes exiting in theatrical-like manners. Thus, the theory was born (and immediately made Stiles think otherwise).

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. It didn’t look as cool as when Derek did it, but maybe that’s what came with the Alpha status. “You’re the one who wanted the info. I’m just the delivery guy.”

“Fine,” Derek exhaled. He set the paper down on the coffee table, not caring as it easily blew off the edge and rolled to the floor.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth, the words unable to form with his frozen lips.

“Go home, Stiles.”

The boy held his hands up in surrender. “I’m going.”

He made it out of the loft, and a block away from the building before an evening shadow casted long overhead his own and he jerked to attack whoever was coming up on him — Derek stood there instead with his constipated confusion face. 

Then, like the Alpha-male he was, Derek huffed out. “What are you doing?”

“Walking?”  _ As if it was a hard concept to grasp.  _ He gestured to himself and his feet. “I use my feet and do this.”

He turned on his heel and continued to walk back to his house. The theatrical exit did nothing to deter the wolf. He easily sidled up next to him, wrapping a large, warm hand around his shoulder to get him to stop again. It was hindering his all-wonderful attempt to get away and just curl up in bed before dawn.

“What are you doing  _ walking home? Alone?”  _

Stiles scoffed. For a moment, he thought the wolf was actually concerned for his well-being.

“There’s a crazed serial killer on the loose and you think that’s a good idea?”

“Actually, yeah.” He shrugged. 

There were worse things that had come into town and started threatening their livelihood. Of them all, a crocodile creature would be much easier to spot than a witch or a soul-possessing-spirit. When the wolf said nothing more, he made sure to stall his heel turn a little longer and resume his walking.

Again, there was a shadow lingering behind him. Stiles sighed. “What are you doing?”

The wolf growled. Despite the distance between them, it still made him shiver as though he’d done it right into his ear. “Making sure you don’t die.”

“Thanks.” 

He rolled his eyes. The wolf could at least try to make it sound like he actually did care for someone else other than his pack or his alpha-ness. 

They passed the post office, his personal marker to remind him that he was nearly home. Derek took the small pause Stiles made before he crossed the street to ask him, “What’s wrong with you?”

He stumbled slightly, regaining his footing to avoid face-planting into the asphalt. “What?”

“You’re quiet.”

“Says you.” Stiles carefully slowed his own stride so that he matched Derek's side. It was easier to have a conversation when within punching distance, if need be. “I think that was the most I’ve ever heard you speak. Ever.”

He could practically hear the wolf grinding his teeth to the root. “I can talk.”

“I know you can, big guy. It’s…” Nice. He shrugs.

The rest of the way to the house, they were silent. But it was different from the other pauses that they usually had. It was warm and welcomed. Neither of them  _ needed  _ to say anything. And Stiles knew that Derek may have reached his word limit for the day.

Stiles walked up to the front porch — and the wolf was waiting there on the sidewalk.

“You know, you can go now.”

“I’ll leave. Once you’re inside.”  _ Great. _

“What am I, your prom date?” Derek glared at him. “How chivalrous of you.”

Derek didn’t move, but his glare seemed to turn deeper. Like a silent threat that said,  _ If you don’t get into the house right now, I’ll push you in. _

Stiles snorted. “Fine.”

He begrudgingly went inside. He paused with the door in his hand. “Derek—” 

The words stopped short. He didn’t know what else to do but give a little awkward nod and close the door behind him. He locked it — a little harder than he needed to, but it was more for the wolf’s sake than his own. He shuffled around the kitchen for a moment, getting himself a bottle of water before making his way up to his room.

Stiles paced in front of his window, an unwanted wave of anxiety bubbling up in his chest now that he was alone. He checked outside by pulling on the drapes and scanning the darkness for any unknown shapes. A pair of red orbs glowed from the trees, and the weight bending his shoulders was lifted.

He knocked his knuckle against the glass to let him know that he saw him. He turned off the light and went to bed.

2\. Everything went to shit in the blink of an eye. It started when his car died on him. Again. Then his dad was in the hospital because he’d been shot. The pack was being tested by some elite Alpha group from Sweden. Stiles wanted to break everything and cry all at once.

He was practically forced out of the hospital. Melissa wouldn’t let him stay there any longer without getting some kind of food in him. Or sleep. Or any relaxation. Not that he’d get any right now anyways.

He didn’t know why or how he was at the old Hale house. There was a fence wrapping around the main entrance of the property, labeled with odd warnings and phrases. He didn’t remember getting to the back porch, pacing up and down the aged planks. 

“Stiles.” 

Stiles jerked, slamming into one of the porch posts as a lifeline. Derek stood there in his dark glory. The wolf raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

Being the eloquent human, Stiles retorted, “What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

“My house. You?”

Stiles looked out to the fence that surrounded the place. It seemed obvious now. “Security cameras. Should’ve noticed — Nice touch. Install them yourself?”

The wolf was having none of it. “Stiles. What are you doing here?” 

For once, Stiles was at a genuine loss of words.  _ I needed space. I didn’t know where else to go.  _ They didn’t seem right. They were heavy and sickly on his tongue that made him want to walk right out in the woods and disappear.

“Let’s go.” 

Derek started to usher him off of the porch. Stiles tried to dig his heels in as much as he could. He just… didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

“Look, I know I’m trespassing —”

“Not that. You need to get your mind off of things.” It became more clear to him when Derek started to lead them the other direction:  _ away from the fence.  _ The tree line was inviting. Open. “Run.”

“Is this some obscure wolf-chase where I end up dead in the end?”

“It will if you don’t start moving.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Stiles took off in a sprint. It was instinctual at first, a wolf at his heels and residual panic at the back of his throat. He couldn’t tell when it changed, but the panic turned into excitement. He was flying through the woods with the trees almost bending around him, allowing him through.

He came to a stop somewhere within the preserve. Derek was nowhere to be seen and for a second he was worried he’d gone too far. All the weightlessness came crashing down onto him in point-two seconds, pushing him flat to the ground. 

A shadow fell over him, clashing hard with the sun that made it its mission to blind him. He didn’t need to ask who it was. Derek offered his hand. Without hesitating, Stiles took it.

They walked back to the Stilinski house. Stiles did hesitate climbing the back steps, reeking no doubt of fear and weariness. Derek stepped up behind him, grabbing the screen door and holding it open for him.

Stiles opened the door without having to dig for any key, and both men stepped through.

“You keep the door unlocked.” It was more of an indignant statement than a legitimate question.

Stiles shrugged, exhaustion hitting him full force and knocking a long yawn out of his mouth. “Habit.”

Derek ushered him to the couch, disappearing to the kitchen. Stiles let his head drift for a minute — two minutes. Between one blink and the next, he went from the couch to his bed. 

“Go back to sleep, Stiles,” came from somewhere in his room. He couldn’t help but to listen.

3\. He lingered on the porch of the McCall house. Scott and him had an outstanding Bro Gaming Session that was never to be denied. Ever. It was a bro-code law between them that they had solidified at the all-legal age of five. 

He turned back to the front door where Scott was leaning. “Hey, are you still on for Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“See ya, dude!”

“See ya!”

Stiles practically skipped off the porch, walking back to his house. He could definitely do it with his eyes closed if he wanted to, but there would no doubt be a certain lingering figure that would object. At the thought, familiar steps fell in beside him, the warmth welcome. He hid the smile that it brought to his face, saying nothing the whole way home.

4\. The first time, it was acceptable. The third canceled game tournament night in a row and Stiles lost it. He couldn’t stand another pitiful look from Melissa about Scott making other plans and a door close to the face.

He’d tried texting his friend plenty of times (although that status was starting to waver, if the canceled plans were any indication), and all he got in response was:  **can’t talk, ttyl.** Scott didn’t even know texting lingo. 

The entire Scott-thing was ridiculous. Everyone knew that he was going out and trying to make Allison jealous so that she would come back to him with open arms. 

_ Ridiculous. _

He covered his disappointment by saying he had his own plans, left, then went along with said plans of walking alone until the sun had set. He’d gone through the entire town before turning to wander through the woods, unsure of everything at this point. 

At some point he stopped, letting his head drop back to look at the stars. The moon wasn’t quite full yet, not that it meant anything anymore. The pack had control. They were stable. He still kept track. For his own peace of mind.

Branches snapped and the ground rustled. Stiles thought that whatever it was should make his death quick. He then thought that no animal in their right mind would make sure a branch snapped that hard for him to notice. He could feel the presence of another person in front of him, and he let his head ease back down to rest on the wolf’s chest.

Derek’s arm hesitantly moved to his side, not quite sure where to touch as it shifted up and down until Stiles pulled away.

“Is your dad home?”

“No. He’s working a double tonight.”

He waited, almost hesitant to ask, “Do you want to go there?”

“No, I — No.”

“C’mon then.”

It was a short walk to the loft in comparison to walking around all day long. Boyd and Erica perked up at the addition of Stiles, stilling at the sight — thought it was more likely the smell — of him. Derek must have done something behind him, because the pair of them stopped and offered him the remote to find something to watch.

Stiles got over his initial shock that  _ Derek owned a television and some kind of cable or streaming  _ before joining the two wolves and easily putting on  _ Chopped _ as an educational service to them all.

5\. Stiles was going to kill Scott. 

After yet another date, the woman had turned out to be a bruxa. The first thing his best-friend did was defend the bruxa for being a “creature of habit” and “not helping who she was”. She was three-hundred and fifteen. She’d done this before, and she was going to do it again  _ because she liked killing people.  _

The first thing he did was punch Scott in the face, possibly breaking his hand. He would have to check later.

The second thing he did was chase after the bitch and deal with her. His favorite flannel was stained with blood, some of which was not his, but the better part was. His bat, Reginald, helped keep his balance as he walked out of the forest, bruised, bloody, and pissed beyond all belief. 

The rest of the pack managed to catch up after dealing with their own challenges. Turns out she was part of a  _ nest.  _ Two other women had appeared (also candidates of Scott’s  _ explorations)  _ to aid their sister. They split up to cover more ground, hoping that bringing down one bruxa would take down the rest.

Derek looked the worst, hair all over the place and shirt torn to pieces. However, all of his outward concern was turned towards Stiles. He didn’t even try to hide it with the obvious scan of Stiles’ injuries. He could see as he found them: crushed hand, bite on his shoulder, scratched pectoral and side, nail holes in his thighs. The wolf immediately stepped up and tried to comfort the man, reaching to relieve any (meaning: all) of his pain. 

Stiles covered his outreaching hands. “Not here.”

All the wolf could manage was a tight nod. He motioned for the others to get a start on heading back to the den. Reluctantly, they started moving. 

Stiles stayed right where he was. If he dared move, he would surely collapse.

As soon as the pair was alone, Stiles leaned into his hands and practically melted into his side. Derek shouldered the majority of him, eventually maneuvering him so that Stiles wouldn’t walk at all. It was too much damsel-in-distress, but Stiles couldn’t complain with the pain drain and assist.

He rested his head into the dip of the wolf’s shoulder and just breathed.

+1. Hospitals weren’t fun. Not for anyone. Stiles tried to avoid them for that exact reason.

He’d gotten away with it with the bruxa attack — barely. Someone had called Melissa (no doubt because Scott had told her what had happened and she showed up on her own accord). Stiles was initially angry, then better when she reset his wrist.

He’d even gotten away with it when, a year later, there was an omega hell-bent on challenging Derek for his alpha status. It’d gotten out of hand, despite the laws in place, and the omega had charged for one of the unsuspecting betas. Stiles had intervened and gotten swiped. But it ended the entire match early, so there was an upside to the whole situation.

A bullet to the shoulder, however, could not be avoided. Especially when he was on the job.

His father —  _ his boss,  _ because he was still on the clock — was one of the first ones let into the room to get his statement. Another rogue had passed through town and he was one of the responding deputies to when they’d broken into a gas station. She’d managed to get the weapon off of the other deputy (unfortunately human, and out of the loop) and shot Stiles before running off. She would, no doubt, be caught within the hour.

“Don’t do anything like that again.”

“I’m afraid it’s an occupational hazard.” His dad glared so hard he could feel it in his soul. “Yes, Sir.”

Discharging him was quick and easy (although having Melissa on-call was a big help). Despite his ability to walk out on his own, as per their policy, they still had to wheel him out. It was slightly demeaning, but if it got him out of their fast, then so be it.

He wasn’t at all surprised to find the pack there waiting for him. He was surprised that they hadn’t tried to break him out earlier, but he probably had somebody to thank for that.

Derek stood in the back, allowing the others to step forward and swarm him while he was the not-so-but-totally dominating figure. The leather jacket was gone, replaced with a thick jean-like jacket that made him look softer around the edges. It was still bad-ass, but in the I’d-give-you-flowers-after-punching-you sort of way.

Stiles maneuvered his way through the crowd, allowing them to partially hug (and avoid his slung-up arm) and scent mark him to their pleasure, to make his way to the man in the back.

“Can’t hide from me.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

Stiles smiled up at him, bright and brilliant in the way that only Derek could get out of him. He slipped his good arm down so that their fingers were intertwined. The wolf visibly relaxed, and Stiles wanted to think that it was the way he was projecting how he was feeling: safe, content, pleased. 

“Walk me home, Alpha.”


End file.
